Emperor's Thousandth Son - Side Story Dragon from the Deep Warp
by deadmansprice
Summary: This is based within LordLucan's fanfiction universe (AU now that the storyline in the main universe is slowly advancing) and a small side-story to my main fanfiction. Will be working on that main fanfiction again soon. Takes place before main fanfic. /wiki/Story:The Shape Of The Nightmare To Come 50k /wiki/Story:Warhammer 60K: The Age of Dusk
1. Chapter 1: Hunt for the Artifact

57th Millennium - Bladed Dragon from the Deep Warp and the Dissolution

The red-armoured superhuman Sorcerer of Thousand Sons strode on the battlefield, inspecting the dying Astartes warriors that had opposed him. Many of them had lethal wounds inflicted by the undead Rubricae automata mind-controlled by Heka, and by their own insane allies turned upon them when they were driven mad by him via his psychic means. Heka began to implement a smaller scale version of the ritual of the Rubric, for he needed new warriors as his Rubric Marines had whittled down from his many encounters with the Deep Warp Daemons.

Meanwhile the small force of the Rubricae milled on the battlefield, with the most ancient Rubricae guards near Heka the Red as his guardians, others prowling on the battlefield, hunting the survivors that would attempt to halt this ritual. Some would be executed, and others would be disarmed. These survivors knew that it didn't matter whether they lived or died, Heka would make use of their souls, binding them to their armour, chained to his will for as long as their armours would endure.

As Heka implemented the ritual, he could smell the fear wafting off of the Astartes through the grills of his helmet and his enhanced hearing could pick out their pleading to the Chaos Abominations, the ones they called Gods, for Heka's dread reputation truly frightened them. Unfortunately for them, their gods were not going to save them from Heka's Rubric ritual. They could not intervene, for it was the Mote of Deep Warp that had seen to that. In it's utterly twisted view, It was a fitting punishment for the warband that nearly killed him, sending it back to Deep Warp, and preventing Heka from proceeding with his plans.

The Shard of Magnus within the Red Sorcerer subtly influenced Heka to keep going for there was no time before the servants of the Dissolution reached them. The Shard watched as Heka struggled with the the impure Mote of Deep Warp, an entity that had been with Heka since his escape from the Deep Warp, paradoxically both continued to tempt Heka the Red with the Primordial Annihilator's offers and beseeching the Red Sorcerer to resist it at the same time, which nearly caused his Rubric ritual to stall due to this constant inner conflict.

After an hour had passed due to the intricate nature of the Rubric Ritual, the souls of the dead Astartes, the dead who faced Heka and fell, and were dragged screaming from the Warp, flooding into the armour they wore in life. What remained of their bodies turned to dust. How ironic that their armour once protected them now imprisoned their souls. The new Rubric Marines rose, as the few surviving Chaos Space Marines looked on in horror, while they lay on the ground, struggling to crawl away but were hindered due to the heartless precise shots from the newly created Rubricae, these unfortunate few screamed as they were turned into the Rubric Marines while alive.

Pragmatically, Heka needed the Rubricae for protection and assets to use when raiding certain places, especially the places infested by Deep Warp for they are not mortals but living armour that can withstand much damage from the monsters of Deep Warp. Heka then looked up, observing the floating husks of the burning Chaos ships, destroyed internally by the maddened crew members.

That had not been easy, as he had to use illusions to deceive the crew members and their Astartes guardians, while his Rubric Marines underneath the disguise of their 'allies' callously murdered every Chaos Space Marines they came across in order to ferment treachery in the ships and at same time influencing just the right minds to erode the foundations of the alliance between the individuals in these warbands in this world. This had taken him some weeks to achieve such feats since this was one of the largest warband of the Eye.

Heka would have easily snapped apart the ships with mere gesture… If most of his power wasn't already tainted by the Deep Warp, thus Heka had to resort to more insidious means. At least the difficult part was done, with his foes lying dead around his feet.

Sensing no more difficult resistance to be found on this world, Heka moved forward with his Rubricae, to the partially excavated xenos temple with the artifact he sensed was emanating a lot of power. To his knowledge, this artifact was an ancient book, written by the xenos hand, possibly the Old Ones, and he had seen this book during his first foray into Deep Warp after the Horus Heresy. This book elicited a sense of dread in Heka's mind as in the wrong hands, it could rapidly speed up the expansion of the Eye of Terror into the rest of the galaxy, and open wide the path for servants of the Deep Warp to directly infect the realspace. To bring the Dissolution closer.

But time was not on his side, Heka could not prevent the psychic death screams of the corrupted mortal worshippers that once followed after this warband which easily travelled within the Eye. Even during the Rubric ritual, Heka could sense several warbands making their way from the edge of this system, investigating the source of the psychic death screams, much larger than the one he had just exterminated.

As Heka consolidated his new Rubric Marines, he sensed a brief shrieking quake in the Eye, spilling forth from the deepest core, where the former capital world of the fallen Eldar Empire lay.

The quake had began. Heka thought nothing of it, for it was a usual quake that echoed in the Warp. Yet unusually quake began to slowly build up, each worlds shuddered in the path of the massed Warp quakes.

As Heka walked up the stairs of the ancient xenos temple, he paused when the vision interrupted him. The unlight flashed, and he saw the portal torn open. Space-time continuum itself around his region within the Eye tore at itself, like oil in a glass container being shaken then suddenly made solid before exploding, with the contents turning to liquid once more.

That portal was giant, and dark. Even at the furthest reaches of the now-expanded Eye could see that unlight flashing impossibly bright, or sensing something dreadful coming from the Deep Warp. Heka knew this was an announcement of sorts from his only enemy that mattered to him. Before he even took another step, he could sense a small pressure from the back of his head which he knew this came from the powerful presence coming out of that portal.

Out of the darkness of the portal, the five fingered dragon claws tore open the portal. The monster lumbered its way through the portal. Heka recoiled in horror at this abomination coming from the Deep Warp. He could hear the maddened hate-songs in every breath. The depthless eyes of the Dragon, size of the largest moons, was filled with hunger, and rage, despite the distance between him and the Deep Warp abomination.

The bladed daemon-dragon tore it's way out of the portal from the Deep Warp into the Eye of Terror, the tainted Eyespace shivered for a brief minute. It's claws gripped the entire worlds, as it spread its incomprehensibly massive wings. It's body could not be perceived on a mortal scales, for the nearest ships. Even Dorn's Phalanx and largest ships of Imperium during the Great Crusade of Man would be naught but tiny gnats compared to its overall size.

Khorne the Blood God, Tzeentch the God of Change, Nurgle the Plague God, Slaanesh the Pleasure God, Valchoct the Maker, former Daemon that ascended to Chaos Godhood and even the Star Father, the shard of Emperor that merged with Star Child, turning into the oppressive Lord of Domination. The Pantheon of the Warp felt fear, even temporarily, at the Dragon of Deep Warp's appearance in their deepest core, for they were reminded of their pact, and yet knowing the Dragon of Deep Warp would do no such damage to their plans and plots, they each returned their attentions to the eternal Great Game as they plotted to take over the whole galaxy at the behest of their barely-known master.

And then the dragon roared in all its hatred and fury spilling, driving the unfortunates nearest the Dragon ever deeper into madness, with the nearest worlds covered in blood and flames.

Heka heard the roar, and his vision ended. He looked toward to the core where the Deep Warp now spilled from, sensing a monstrous presence, almost on the level of the Chaos Abominations. He knew this was going to be a hard time, since the monster in the Deep, had been attempting to kill him in countless ways since Horus Heresy via countless means it employed.

The sentient Mote of Deep Warp then showed Heka more visions of what was occurring within the Eye. Heka began to intone his incantations, using the words of power to form protection around for himself, knowing this abomination was sent for him, for he heard his name called within the roar of the dragon that shook the expanded realms of the Eye of Terror.

The Dragon slowly made its way through the diseased regions of the Eye, as it sought out it's prey. Many worlds in the now-expanded realm of the Eye of Terror held many such bright presences, but only one held his attention.

The inhabitants of the Eye, who were in the Dragon of the Deep Warp's path reacted instantly, even long before the Dragon even came near them. All of them with dread and somehow by instinct, they rushed towards to the Dragon, rather than fleeing from them… although by this point, they all lost their sanity a long time ago.

The blood-covered ships of Khorne in their madness flew many leagues far ahead of Tzeentch's sorcerous fleet in the midst of their arcane rituals, while the lumbering rusting ships of Nurgle slowly made their way, spreading sickness to other worlds in their blighted joy at "sharing" the gifts of their Plague God, while creating a new "gifts" for the massive warp horror, while the debauched Slaaneshi ships followed the ships of Blood God in hopes to extract the substances from the great abomination to experiment with their drugs.

The mechanical void whales of Valchoct The Maker began to launch rows upon rows of the lances in disciplined firing pattern, in a machine-like precision, while the mindless blank ships of Star Father formed a large wall of ships, forming like a giant net to cover the Dragon in order to slow it down, and to dominate it.

Though massive in numbers, they were naught but insects buzzing around the Dragon of Deep Warp whose jaws could swallow entire fleets, claws that could grip entire worlds, it's wings filling the tainted space between the diseased stars within the Eye, their numbers only enough to cover the face of the Dragon, not it's whole body.

The crazed butcher-ships of Khorne rammed head first into the Dragon's hides, shooting hooks into its flesh. The insane Khornate Berzerkers continued howling their praises for the Blood God as they leapt out of the ships, running down the massive chain in their desire to kill the biggest thing they could find, to claim giant skull for the Blood God. To shed the greatest amount of blood.

The elegant pleasure barges of Slaaneshi worshippers sent out their troop transports, with the mindless lunatics, drugged out of their minds to land on the massive Dragon of Deep Warp, and to dig in, in order to pull out any substance that could significantly enhance their pleasure, and they were always hunting for the buzz. And perhaps any advantages to gain over their foes.

Along came the lumbering plague-ships, that simply opened up their ports, and began to spill all the manners of disease and sickness on the massive warp abomination, with the giggling nurglings and the morbid diseased Astartes leaping off the plague-ships, slowly making their way to the Dragon of Deep Warp.

Despite the ships' seeming unity however, the followers of the Pantheon that landed on the Dragon immediately fought each other as much as they attempted to enact their will on Antwyr, the Bladed Dragon whose power had phenomenally increased ever since it passed itself between the owners until it fled into the Eye. Ever since it had fallen way into the Deepest Fundament of Deep Warp.

Meanwhile the ever-shifting formation of sorcerer-ships of Tzeentch cast their rituals and psychic strikes and defenses to weaken and to expose the weak spots. Their chants slowly wafted to the stars, while the Greater Daemons of Tzeentch gathered together to focus constant change on this this monster, and at the same time, they attempted to turn this monster to madness, as mad as they are, somehow utterly unaware that this dragon was the embodiment of all the madness in the universe, in their attempts to subjugate the Dragon for their goals.

The hybrid flesh-mechanical ships of Valcocht the Maker began to move in like sharks going after a large prey, and stalking the Dragon of the Deep Warp, they launched countless volleys of projectiles and psychic energies at that monster. For all their warp-borne might, they were not even putting a dent in the great abomination.

Then the mindless adorant ships of the Star Father began to form the massive wall, with countless chants of the angyls creating a massive wall, in order to trap the massive dragon. They praised and beseeched the uncaring lord of Dominion, gathering energies, for they sought to force the will of Star Father on this beast.

And then in a short time, the fleets stopped fighting each other. However, Antwyr had long-since lost its ability to control others after it's previous encounter with Heka the Red, but in exchange for it, it had became far more powerful since fleeing into Deep Warp. For once, the fleets were working together in tandem without a leader to lead them, without attempting to murder each other out of spite somehow.

Despite all the powers that this combined fleets had at their disposal, that would have even overrun the infamous 41st Millennium Imperium of Man, and would had caused even the powerful deathless armies of the now-awakened Necron empires to pause at this awful strength without their Warp-nullifying Pylons.

The movements of the Dragon of Deep Warp turned aside entire fleets, it's gargantuan jaws opened wide, and then in a impossibly short time snapped them shut, swallowing many souls and greater Daemons at once, leaving naught but few insane stragglers in it's path, they continued their efforts mindlessly, despite no damage was done to that Dragon.

By the time the Dragon reached to Heka the Red just at the edge of the star system, leaving trails of broken ships and shattered bodies, Heka knew the monster was near, feeling the intensity of its depthless stare and its eternal hatred for him, yet he could sense it's twisted sense of kinship for him.


	2. Chapter 2: Bulwark against the Storm

At once, the dread Draziin-maton abominations began to rise from the ground, and like a maddened swarm of insects, charged at Heka and his enlarged force of Rubric Marines.

The Rubricae responded immediately by firing on the infected wraithbone constructs of the old Eldar Empire, with the neverborn from the Deep Warp controlling them, like disturbing puppets following the strings their masters. Like a tide, they went forth and fought the Rubric Marines, attempting to come near them to cut them down easily, for their blades could carve through any armour with effortless ease.

Heka felt the powerful psychic strike from the Dragon, which shattered his kine shield in one easy blow despite his constant efforts. Only his enduring will and psychic strength prevented him from being annihilated. He knew this thing was trouble. This was no simple Champion of any of the Six Chaos Abominations, but a old foe that had fled to the Deep, and returned more powerful. He cursed inwardly, as he slammed his staff on the ground as the first line of his Rubric Marines collapsed into vicious melee, while the second and last third line of the trapped souls slowly retreated, fusillading the Draziin-maton abominations with their bolter rounds.

For a moment, the Draziin-Matons had been pushed back hard, the first ones having been turned to dust, but then they pushed in harder, rapidly eliminating the distance by rushing, destroying the first line of the Rubricae, clambering over the torn armour, despite the constant precise bolter fire of the deathless automata running out of their ammunitions.

Only now that it was the Draziin-Matons that were truly countless, coming like hungry pack of wolves after the legendarily nigh unkillable Rubricae. Trapped souls in armours fighting without a war-cry, unlike the infamous "all is dust" warcries of Rubricae used by other sorcerers who originated from the Fifteenth Legion. They simply kept fighting on in silence.

As the massive dragon came nearer, Heka could feel its awful psychic might being exerted on his mind, attempting to breach it, to destroy his mind and defenses from inside. It was similar to what he had experienced on his first foray into Deep Warp, too similar, and he suspected this dragon was a direct servant of the Deep, and an old foe. And rightly suspecting this was Antwyr, for this Daemon would do this, as it had attempted to do him on their first meeting in it's blade form. The barriers of his mind were being pressed, like the tide of water pressing against the barrier.

As a result, Heka the Red Sorcerer struggled, as he exerted his will against the dragon, using all his psychic might and strength. Although in person, the Red Sorcerer appeared to be standing, adjusting his runes on the ground, in reality, Heka was struggling to even write the runes upon other runes of protection on the sands of this broken world, just to prevent himself from being completely disintegrated, although parts of his armour started turning to ashes.

" _Ungrateful wretch, the ever-loyal son of Anathema. We offered you power, and freely offered you a gift and you spat on it, again and again in the midst of the Scouring of Horus' little kinlings and again, for twenty-seven thousand years to this day"_ Antwyr addressed Heka as it turned one side of its face to Heka, gripping this world's moons as it's grips, with the husks of ships crashing on its gargantuan scales.

Almost at once, the world grew darker, as Heka looked to the sky, feeling it's immense power. The ever-changing colorful sun had been blocked, its light rays blocked out as the dragon moved its head close, just to see the physical form of Heka.

All Heka saw was a large organic eye, the size of a large moon staring back at him, but his psychic senses warned him through his mind-vision that this giant abomination from the Deep Warp was peering closely at the Red Sorcerer hatefully for what he had done to it, unhappy that he had to speak to the pest, but after all, Heka knew like the rest, it was just a slave. Antwyr's tight grasp size the unfortunate planets hard, as though to restrain itself from lashing out. Despite the darkness, Heka could perceive the eye easily through his warp-enhanced Second Sight.

Despite the immense pressure, Heka remained standing, unbowed, his unyielding will refusing to buckle into the psychic pressure to force him to kneel, like a supplicant before the altar. He looked to the sky " _And again, I have refused your offer, Annihilator. I know you can hear me through your pet slave."_ He responded via his telepathy, his tone loaded with acid.

At this point, the Draziin-Maton immediately stopped attacking, quailing before the might of the impossible beast's power, now increased by it's rage at Heka's implied insult. Heka took an opportunity to move his Rubric Marines further back, while executing the Draziin-Matons.

The dragon responded insulted " _Oh, Heka, you think me a mindless puppet, like the little slaves that sit on their thrones, duelling among themselves in the Great Game?"_ The dragon laughed cruelly. " _Even Emper-"_

" _Shard of Emperor"_ Heka responded, defending Emperor's honor, for he remembered Emperor as he was, not the rotting once-living carcass on the Golden Throne or the Star Father that his strongest shard had become " _For that thing that masquerades as Emperor, is not my Emperor!"_ and Heka raised his staff to the dragon, despite the enormous psychic pressure, due to his iron-clad willpower, even as his constantly regenerating skin burnt at the growing rage of that dragon " _And unlike that corrupted shard of Emperor, I am not a slave, nor the puppet of your master. I refused the offer the first time, and I have rejected it countless times, and will always turn that offer down"_

Heka cast his pitifully small fireball at the eye of the dragon before returning to complete defense as he fought the psychic pressure slowing his movements down in order for him to retreat. At once, the eye closed, and opened, and the time froze, just as the dreaded Draziin-Maton leapt from the ground, to attack what remained of Heka's Rubric Marines, despite their continual firing.

At once, Heka looked around, and he knew at once that this time freeze was neither his doing, nor that of the dragon's. He was not affected by that time freeze as he had sacrificed his place in time in order to escape Deep Warp, however he could no longer see the future anymore.

Heka observed the Dreaded Draziin-Maton mid-air, close with their charging energy blasts in some, and in others, some with a varying deadly melee appendages. In that instant, he knew he would have a very few Rubric Marines left, and his escape routes were being rapidly eliminated. The only other option that he loathed the most, was becoming more appealing. He knew this is the latest attempt of the Primordial Annihilator, the foe more cunning than any life in this universe.

The black figure rose up, few meters in front of Heka the Red, and with countless eyes looking at him in kindness. No malice, no hatred, but all the same, it held Heka's negative qualities. Heka knew this figure, for it was very much part of him, as much as Shard of Magnus is, since his escape from the Deepest Fundament of the Deep Warp.

+ _At the risk of being subsumed into the Pantheon, I offer you to use my power, to escape. Meld with me, and allow me to take over+_ The Mote of Deep Warp pleaded Heka + _We both despise this option but the escape is going to become impossible without me. Antwyr has been reshaped. It's power greater in it's height. It is no longer the Corrosive Blade we've been hearing about+_

The Shard of Magnus the Red, having remained silent, playing the observer responded in his mind " _My son, it would be a viable option. We both know that Antwyr hails from the Fundament of Deep. We need to take a chance to flee here as this isn't a fight we can win."_ The Shard had confirmed Heka's suspicious about the origin of the Dragon, coming from the very same place within the Deep Warp he had fled from.

Heka looked around " _No. Not now. Not here, where the Primordial Annihilator holds Court."_ He had questions on how it was possible for the Mote of Deep Warp to freeze time here. It shouldn't even be possible, and he knew that the Mote of Deep Warp was too dangerous to release, especially so deep into the Eye, but at least they were not in the regions where the Deep Warp was spreading out.

+ _Fine, but I will have to take over at some point, and I warn you, Heka, you will not like the results, when I take actions without your agreement to save your life+_ The Mote continued + _You cannot refuse this aid forever, my old friend+._ Heka saw Magnus looking at Heka in knowledge. They both shared the same feeling about Mote of Deep Warp taking over.

At once, the Mote of Deep Warp melted to the ground. Heka frowned, knowing this has happened in the past, destroying some of his millennia-long works he did to reverse this continuous transformation and some of his work to delay the ancient prophecies concerning the Primordial Annihilator.

Heka acted immediately, using the precious few seconds before the flow of time resumed. His mind pulsing with the deadly energies of the Warp. His eyes blazed with power, as he raised his arms, gathering even more in order to strike at that dragon.

In the impossibly fluid and quick motion, the eye disappeared, with the light returning, however, the psychic pressure become heavier and the random thoughts danced at Heka's mind, in the dragon's attempt to dispel Heka's weak attempts to attack the dragon, and it's increasingly frustrated attempts to destroy the Red Sorcerer, using every means it knew.

At once, the physical pressure shifted in the air, becoming heavy, forcing Heka to bring all his strength to move. He then looked around, knowing it was impossible to fight this dragon without the corrupting aid of the mote of Deep Warp. Instead, he focused his will on creating the Warp portal to escape from from this world. Anywhere within the Eye, before either the Dragon annihilated him, and took the Mote of Deep Warp to rise to the Pantheon of Chaos Abominations, or before Mote of Deep Warp was unleashed, and rose to become a God of Oblivion.

Heka and his surviving Rubric Marines quickly moved, as the dread Draziin-Matons staggered momentarily under that pressure. The dragon evidently did not care about these tainted constructs. But then Heka saw the giant sharp claw rapidly coming down on the horizon, as though to pierce it. It meant to Heka that this dragon made it's decision to crush this world to kill him. It wasn't taking any chances, for all it's extreme psychic might, it could not destroy Heka the Red, bit by bit, for he resisted it's every attempt.

As Heka and his Rubricae moved, searching for the open place, as they moved between the ruins and crumbling mountain, dodging the falling trees and dirt, just as the Draziin-Maton came after them again in droves.

Rapidly, like a scythe through wheat, the Rubricae, once totalling in hundreds became reduced to two dozens left, and Heka's intonations grew more urgent, in the midst of their psychic duels. The souls of the Rubricae did not sigh in joy in release… not when they were absorbed into the Dragon. The screams of the former Chaos champions and Loyalist warriors turned into Rubricae rang loud in Heka's ears as they were sucked into the Dragon's form.

Heka found the Webway portal while running, and he knew that was his chance to escape. A chance, since he could not see the future anymore. Not since his escape from his foray into the very heart of Deep Warp, as he had to focus most of his power enduring the dragon's psychic strikes that could lay low even other Alpha-Plus psykers easily, if not for the Mote of Deep Warp and Shard of Magnus in him working in tandem to save him, without the Mote of Deep Warp needing to take over.

Heka's armour warned him that this world's atmosphere was being drained, by the dropping levels on the oxygen. At the same time, Heka experienced the vision of that Dragon breathing in deeply, and he could sense the fire was about to engulf this world.

At one blink, Heka saw his gauntlet covered in deep black where even light could not escape, instead of the ancient Tizcan Red of the sons of Prospero, with the malignant eyes shifting on about in the darkness on his armour, but then after the next blink, his armour was back to normal. Shocked, He looked down, and saw a blade from the Draziin-Maton protruding from his chest, his blood leaking freely. At once, all the air went out of his lungs, even as he realised he focused so much on defending himself from the Dragon's strike, paying all of his attention, that he failed to notice one construct slip past the wall of the remaining Rubric Marines. In a next heartbeat, the pain came rushing, from the deep wound in his twin hearts.

The Mote of Deep Warp began to slowly surge from his armour. It's black shadowy tendrils quested its way around his form, even as Heka spun around, smashing his staff onto the Draziin-Maton, destroying it utterly in his wrath of a vengeful dying man, turning it into dust, with with his use of the energies of the Deep Warp.

Heka fell on his knees, watching as his remaining Rubric Marines fell, one by one, their ensorcelled rounds finally running out, their blades broken. He ground his teeth, looking at his exposed chest, and glancing at the broken containment wards on his armour and yet somehow he was able to mentally function by his iron will. He pulled off his helmet as his lifeblood leaked out. Dropping the helmet, he gazed up to the sky hatefully.

By this point, the shadows covered his human form completely, while Heka looked to the dragon with undisguised contempt and hatred. Before he closed his eyes for the last time, he heard the voice of his daughter. As he closed his eyes, he imagined himself, with his last words, telling his crying daughter that everything will be alright in the Prosperine dialect, three centuries before the Burning of Prospero right before the shadows covered his hideously scarred and mutated face.


	3. Chapter 3: Awakening of the Dissolution

The next words that came out of the Sorcerer in the next few seconds, was not the word of the Heka the Red. It was the first words of the Mote of Deep Warp. "Antwyr, my dear precious cousin" the tone of the Mote of Deep caused the Dragon to pause, just a mere instant away from unleashing its breathe that would have cut through the realms of the Eye, incinerating countless worlds until it reached so close to the Terra-That-Was, for that Dragon could see nothing, even he, and his kin, the Pantheon, could control the Mote of Deep Warp.

Antwyr was furious that he could not control the Mote of Deep Warp, nor absorb it's power. This has gone horribly wrong, for the Aspect of Oblivion was originally have planned to go to him, after their failed attempt to control Heka, to wrest in all the good from the universe, and to transform him into a God of Dissolution whose Number is Three. But this has not gone according to pl-

"Oh my precious little naive Cousin, is that what you were thinking, in your arrogance that I would go to you?" It cackled in the Antwyr's mind, both a whisper and a shout "You poor, poor deluded slave." Heka's armoured form remained kneeling, while the shadows from within pushed the shards of the sword out.

Antwyr laughed in an apparent delight, though it's rage was hidden behind that laughter, it's rage infecting the nearby regions of the Eye to madness "Ah "Mote of Deep Warp", so that the little pest calls you. Come to me, and we will set you free, from the prison of that mortal. Our father is waiting for you, you know".

The Mote of Deep Warp's tendrils spread everywhere, rapidly, like poison spreading to the veins of this world, causing the dragon's claw to retract and retreat from the planet. Like a dam barely holding in the shadow, the Mote of Deep Warp remained restricted… as if by a choice, before deciding to spread out the other worlds.

Antwyr was taken aback by the Mote of Deep Warp's loyalty to Heka the Red as it observed the shadow of the Deep Warp beginning to dissolve this planet, and the Eye began to tremble at the Mote of Deep Warp's dread presence.

The Draziin-Matons, the Daemons of Deep Warp attempted to flee the avatar of Oblivion, only to find themselves already dissolving. The utter oblivion itself. The True Death, a fate feared by all Warp entities. The Mote of Deep Warp looked to the Dragon, with the mocking eyes.

"You pathetic little thing." it scoffed "No." It's countless eyes grinned mockingly at Antwyr "Unable to believe that you are unable to draw me in?" It rolled its eyes "Unlike you, Heka worked to purify me so he could free us. He is not as greedy as others and never sought power in the first place yet here I am, attempting to ungratefully corrupt him, with most of his power tainted by myself."

In an impossibly short time, the dragon had charged it's breathe, with the storms of the Eye, of the Warp formed around its mouth. The tides of madness washed against the Mote of Deep Warp, with the shrieks ringing throughout the colorful spaces, seemingly echoing for countless eternities. The infinite daemons never came near the Mote of Deep Warp however, fearing the touch of the abomination.

At all once, the Dragon unleashed it's destructive energies into the Mote of Deep Warp, with all the hatred it could muster, drawing from the wellspring of Deep Warp. And yet, for all it's awful unreality sundering power, it never reached to the Mote of Deep Warp.

For the Mote of Deep Warp effortlessly dissolved these attacks, even as it dissolved the planet. The Mote of Deep Warp chuckled with humour, in a derisive tone, it said to the dragon "You will never become a God of Dissolution, no matter the number. You will come close, but you will never achieve this, my dear kin. Never"

Antwyr never ceased in it's attacks. If anything, it was pushing everything it had in it's attempt to subjugate the Mote of Deep Warp. It began to transform into the massive dragon-shaped blades and teeth, in it's attempt to absorb the Mote of Deep Warp, having already turned into a giant, having fed on every death and destruction of every human since the first murder in the universe.

Despite that, the Mote of Deep Warp scoffed at Antwyr, seeing its horrifying form with deep disinterest. The blades and teeth began to corrode rapidly, dissolving at the countless shadow tendrils as it slowly spread outward. The Antwyr found itself unable to send countless daemons against the monstrous abomination that spread out like an infection to the Eye.

Its voice loud and clear. The concept and memory formed from the Mote of Deep Warp's voice "You may be Antwyr, former blade that ended the life of Castellan Crowe, and controlled several entire Imperias, but you will never be a god. Never. You could never control me nor Heka the Red, nor Magnus with your pathetically weak powers."

Despite Antwyr's size many magnitude larger than the Mote of Deep Warp, it slowly moved to the edge of the system, few million kilometers away from the rising Mote of Deep Warp, while engulfing entire star system like an organic Dyson Sphere to trap it's fellow monster. A tactic that was not working, despite it's desperation.

"But I? I am the Mote of Dissolution. Every death, every destruction, every war… feeds me. You are… limited by humanity in this galaxy." For once, Antwyr felt true fear. The Mote of Dissolution continued "Every destruction of souls feeds me, for I am very concept of the end itself. And all things must end" And at once, the Mote of Dissolution struck out, gripping the Daemon of First Murder. 

It sensed the Antwyr's increasing fear of its own end. "No. No. Heka should have weakened you, curtailed your power!" it was trying to comprehend what the Mote of Dissolution is. "It can't be. You are weapon unleashed, beyond the control of Ne-!" The Mote of Dissolution laughed darkly, seeing Antwyr come to this realisation.

The Mote of Dissolution immolated Antwyr's essence by psychic strikes. Antwyr's true death caused psychic shockwaves in the Eye, and it said the last words "And this is my favour to Heka the Red, for you have attempted to control him, as you have on others, since the death of the worthy one, Castellan Crowe."

That laughter sped up the Mote of Dissolution's ascension to the Pantheon of Dissolution, in its ambition to join them as the Seventh God Whose Number Was Three as it caused massed death within the expanded realms of the Eye of Terror, exponentially increasing already prodigious strength to greater heights.


	4. Chapter 4: Return of the Hydra

The Mote of Dissolution's countless eyes shuddered in pleasure as it drank in death itself, from the Materium, within the Eye, and even in the Maelstrom. It was gorging itself hungrily increasing its size.

And then even as the world crumbled, even as Heka's body remained rooted to the ground, the last of the wraithbone shards dropped out of Heka's body, forced out by the shadow, the Webway gate opened, causing multiple eyes gazing at the light of the gateway opening.

Large figure led the silent Astartes warriors clad in power armour, in the colors of the Alpha Legion, in blue and green, with the symbol of white hydra present on their pauldron. Alongside came the seemingly young female warrior, whose lifespan was extended by the juvenat treatments. Three blanks surrounded them in a formation of circle. The shadows were being pushed by by their presence, causing the Mote of Dissolution pain.

Omegon glanced at his sons, and by their movement, they were hesitating to even advance.. He could not blame them as he also could feel the dread, and seeing the horizons that began to disintegrate, he knew they were working on a very limited time. Instinctively, he moved near the mortals that accompanied him and his warriors, Imogen the Dauntless, the leader of her faction, the Brethen of the Willing, and her warriors, trained by the former inquisitors, having allowed by Primarch-Emperor Vulkan, the Emperor of Vulkanite Imperium based in Armageddon.

The Rubric Marines fought against the shadows. Rising and falling every time. The souls of the Rubric could be heard howling as they fought against the shadows. Not one of them had their guns. Instead, they fought, with what they had. Rocks, fists, even broken swords. Against their shadow copy with countless eyes.

Despite the bubble protection provided by the blanks, the group could hear the incessant whispers, which drove the weak-willed among the group of newcomers to commit suicide after hearing the maddeningly horrendous whispers they could not understand.

Imogen observed the struggles of the blanks as they held back the tides of the shadows. For them, it was as if they were holding back a tide of oceans pushed by hurricane with feeble walls that somehow held, though always at the danger of being broken though. She could not understand these whispers but could sense it's rage at the interruption of this ritual. She looked at the surviving members of the Brethren of the Willing, urging them forward, while Omegon and his sons forged from Vulkan's new geneforged processes, advanced forward.

Omegon watched as the glowing ghost-like figure of Magnus the Red lead them through. He could scarcely still believe that a noble aspect of his corrupted brother had fled to Heka. It was easier to believe that this Sorcerer held a very malevolent entity within him, than to believe that this Aspect of Magnus remained in his gene-son, and in addition, loyal to Emperor, or rather, to Emperor's ideals.

The stare of the countless eyes from everywhere, from the sky, ground, and even on the walls bored onto newcomers. It was then the blanks started screaming, as the mortals fought their way to the shadows. It became apparent that the Tizcan-colored Rubricae fought to prevent the shadows from reaching them.

Even though the blanks had been screaming, they continued on, with their wills urging them onward, whatever the shattered parts of their sanity held on, long enough to force themselves despite the intense agony the Mote of Dissolution inflicted on them. The path was visible to these blanks by their glow, leading the group of mortals onwards.

The Alpha Legionnaires moved like unyielding mortal bulk, communicating with each other via cypher serpanta, fighting off remaining shadows that were not distracted by the Rubricae. They were racing against the dissolution of the planet itself.

As they raced, one of the blanks fell dead, with his head burst open from the powerful psychic pressure, both Imogen and Omegon looked in horror as the protective realspace barrier shrank, the unfortunate mortals and Legionnaires of Alpha Legion screamed as body and souls dissolved. Never to go to Warp, but utterly destroyed. Omegon knew this was to be his fate and fate of all mortals, should Primordial Annihilator succeed, and with it, the Dissolution of the universe.

The reduced-group moved onwards regardless, as the two remaining blanks pushed harder. Imogen held in her shock and sorrow, for these blanks that travelled with them were some of the more powerful anti-psykers, and some of her best assets as they had saved each other in their countless missions.

For a moment both Omegon and Imogen looked at each other, with only one question in their minds: How could a mortal contain the dread entity that could dissolve entire worlds, and planned on enacting the final plan of that monster? How could he contain the weapon left unleashed by the Primordial Annihilator? Then they continued running.

In a few minutes of running and fighting their way through the battlefield of Rubricae and their shadowed duplicates, they saw Heka, kneeling on the ground, apparently dead, with the massive hole in his chest, steadily growing. As they got nearer, they spotted shade of Magnus the Red hovering over his son's body, and small mart of the Mote of Dissolution. To their surprise, they saw Heka the Red in his human form, wearing his Prosperine garment, rather than the superhuman form of the one who had been part of the Legiones Astartes.


	5. Chapter 5: Resurrection of the Red

Omegon could see Heka's determination present on his face, his unyielding will. His ghostly form was tiny, in comparison to Heka's physical form that towered over him. He heard Imogen gasp then as he glanced at her, he saw her steeling herself, as she moved forward, overcoming her shock. No wonder that was why his brother, Vulkan made her the head of Brethren of the Willing, the successor to Inquisition of the infamous M41 Imperium of Man.

Imogen looked to Heka, in his pure human form. It was the first time she had seen him like that. Heka grinned, as if greeting an old friend he had not seen for years. "Imogen. That little girl that I have rescued, had grown into a fine woman. It has been many years since last I dropped you off, in hopes you would grow in a good place in this bleak galaxy."

The Dauntless Lady nodded. "I have. And now I'm here to help you." Heka shook his head "Not here. You need to r-" Imogen walked forward, dangerously near the black living shadows, right as the second blank died, shrinking the real-space bubble, the screams of the few unfortunate Astartes and mortals could be heard. Imogen shook her head tearfully. "No. We made our choice. Let me say the words. Let me be your mouthpiece. We need you back."

Omegon cut in "Imogen's right. We have to hurry before Dissolution takes us all." Heka wearily nodded "Fine, but one of your sons… will need to be sacrificed, only the psyker-born is required. One that does not carry the taint of the Dissolution" The Primarch noted the difficulty in Heka's voice, in expressing this information. Omegon could tell that Heka was reluctant to sacrifice one of them, even though there were rumours that he had been killing many of his own Legion. He filed his questions later and conferred with his sons in their cryptic language commonly used by the entirety of Alpha Legion. Librarian Hozai looked at Heka and volunteered himself immediately.

Hozai's brothers protested this, however he continued onwards, without heeding their protests and looked straight at Heka's astral form. "Let me ask you this. Were you influencing my visions and dreams? How did the Harlequins find you?" causing everyone else to fall silent. Even Omegon wanted to know this, for his psychic son had been experiencing these visions but never elaborated, and his reasoning was that it was in the spirit of wanting to keep the morale up.

Heka shook his head. "No. 'Twas not I, my dear brother, nor was it the work of Mote of Deep Warp, nor that of the Mote's impure aspect: Mote of Dissolution." His face briefly showed pain, unnoticed by mortals, but Omegon and his gene-sons could see it, and the deep determination in his eyes as the Red Sorcerer continued "Our mutual ally, or rather… the one who can save us all… may have been that one."

Omegon looked to Magnus and saw him nod. It was a first time in a long time that he saw his psyker brother before his corruption, and his rise as the Daemon-Primarch. Omegon held in his grief, as he remained silent, listening to Hozai's interaction with Heka.

Hozai glanced at the solid shadows surrounding them "I need release. This sacrifice will do, before the madness takes over my mind. I want to die sane and and untainted." His voice choked with misery "My Primarch and my brothers had to restrain me in every waking hours for a century, in my dreaming nightmares, for years since we left the Materium, to traverse the Webway" He looked to Heka's broken Astartes form "and it's getting worse as years march on. Less and less of my brothers remain and I fear my Primarch will follow me to Oblivion due to bad luck which seems to afflict my Harrow. And some of these nightmares… involve the shadows as black as yours, Red Sorcerer, and these countless eyes."

Omegon could tell there were genuine fears in Hozai's voice which surprised him, for Hozai had been one of the most fearless Astartes warrior around, which bolstered the morale of his own squad. Yet, inwardly, he had discreetly discussed this with his sons about Hozai, for they could tell Hozai had been holding his dreams and visions as secret. Plain as day, and that was clear even to the Alpha Legionnaires. A last psyker for this Harrow.

"Are you sure about that?" Heka asked. "Your brothers need you. I suspect the only reason you've made it here, is because you lead your Harrow here, following the psychic dream-beads that only you can see." Heka knew of that psychic trail. Only one figure could have done this, as neither the Mote of Deep Warp or Dissolution, Magnus and himself could have placed these trails. They never did, to prevent the servants of the Dissolution from tracking them and finding out their carefully laid plans.

Hozai enquired if they were the ones that laid the beads. Heka shook his head, pointing out even Magnus and the Mote of Deep Warp would never do this. He revealed that the only reason why they were still here was because he was still holding back most of the shadows from snuffing out their last blank, but his grip was feeble. Hozai looked back and could see Omegon and his Alpha Legionnaires and Imogen and her mortals already sensing his decision made, and any further protests were pointless. The only last thing Hozai said to them was "Please, keep my Harrow alive, my Lord Primarch. You know now why I refused to be the Harrowmaster of the Unsanctioned".

Omegon nodded sorrowfully, his expression hidden by his helmet as he knew this was why Hozai had refused to be the Harrowmaster for all these years. Hozai had been suffering his nightmares and every century he grew more gaunt but his will led his brothers onwards even as the Harrow was slowly reduced in numbers. Now he would have to lead this Harrow onwards for a time being, to continue waging his secret wars against the Dissolution.

Hozai turned to Heka the Red, the last loyal son of the Fifteenth Legion and nodded. The ghost human form of Heka stood up to the Librarian, of the Unsanctioned warband. "Repeat after me"" was all he said. Hozai smiled, as he took off his helmet. There, Hozai looked fully white, gaunt and then with relief for release. Omegon gazed in shock, knowing that originally, Hozai had been a tanned person, hailing from one of many desert worlds that Alpha Legion still recruited from.

Before Omegon could react, Hozai began to intone the Prosperine incantation, following after Heka's words, even as the shadows pressed on, with the unnatural rage of the Mote of Deep Warp's impure counterpart, Mote of Dissolution, pressing on the last living blank, already dying from this force.

However this ritual could not be hurried, and the remaining Alpha Legionnaires and their mortal allies from Vulkanite Imperium found themselves assailed by living shadow entities not held back by the Rubricae, fuelled by the endless rage of the unborn God of Dissolution denied its birth.

Unlike the Rubricae who have long since run out of their ammo, the Alpha Legionnaires unleashed their disciplined volleys of mixture of bolter and plasma rounds, and the Brethren of Willing unleashed their esoteric weapons, firing back, in their efforts to keep the shadows away.

Meanwhile Hozai continued to repeat Heka's incantation, matching his accent. He poured his will. He felt release coming and smiled as what remained of his life energies departed from him. As he died, he looked to Heka, his final incantation drifting off his mouth. He saw Heka's human form gaze at him sadly, and said "Thank you for releasing me. I am at peace." Heka only shook his head "No. Thank you for this. On the behalf of all of us here and those who are yet to be born". Hozai smiled, as his spirit departed laughing with joy.


	6. Chapter 6: Finale - Escape

The last blank screamed freely as the blood flowed out of his nose. Omegon could sense his sons panicking, but admirably they were keeping themselves disciplined, by forming a tighter cordon around the mortals, for the mortals were beginning to panic, while Hozai went down on his knees, closing his eyes, and spreading his arms.

Omegon watched as the blank died, screaming painfully, and the shadows appeared to rush in close, with the laughter of the Mote of Dissolution. It was the most disturbing thing he had ever heard, and he could hear some of the mortals going mad. Imogen, true to her reputation, did not react badly to the Mote of Deep Warp.

For once, the shadow figures had melted into the ground. For that second that seemed to crawl into eternity for Omegon and his surviving group, they waited for further attacks and psychic strikes. For that horrifying second, they waited to be destroyed. The Primarch closed his eyes, prepared to face the soulless end of the eternal oblivion, squashing his mortal fears. He listened to mortals muttering prayers to God-Emperor, following after the ancient Lectitio Divinitatus, originally written by his brother Lorgar, long before he turned against the Emperor, beloved by all. He preferred to hear that, than to listen to the twisted versions of Imperial Creed taught by those who truly forgot it during the Second Age of Strife.

And then Hozai truly died in that moment, the joyful laughter of his soul ringing in the minds of Omegon and his Alpha Legionnaires, and with it, the enraged roar of an unborn god denied it's birth. Omegon could feel it here in this moment, the shifting of the futures and timelines.

" _You dare! You dare to disobey! You dare to delay the Dissolution and refuse my gift! You dare to deny me this!"_ The Primordial Annihilator roared through the Warp. It used the voice of all the Pantheon. That voice was filled with twisted kind of love and hate.

Omegon was shocked and horrified at the horrible voice of the Primordial voice. He knew this was not meant for him and his group. They knew instinctively somehow that this was for Heka the Red. Even the Primarch himself quailed before the evil voice of the Primordial Annihilator.

" _And I will continue to refuse your gift. Yes, I dare."_ Heka replied with the unsettling calmness " _For what you have done to me and my Legion, to my Gene-father and to all of us, I will deny you one of the three potentials for as long as I live"_ He pointed upward defiantly, his index finger pointed accusedly at the sky, towards to the core of the Eye, where the Deep Warp now spilled from " _And your plans shall come undone in the coming Last War. We all know this, you who rule the Court of Neverwere"_

Omegon caught the note of weariness ladened by determination and then the unbending, unyielding will. Omegon could sense it. He could sense the link between Magnus the Red, the Mote of Deep Warp and Heka, and knew these two were responsible for Heka's apparent sanity. He knew that Heka would have fallen, if not these two.

And before the vision ended, Omegon witnessed Heka turning to face him and Imogen. Omegon noted that Heka's eyes were resolute and determined. They were glowing with blue fire. "No more Long Nights for us. No more. This Eternal War will end. One way or another. The Last War shall tip the scales." Heka declared, with the conviction of the man whose determination was eternal.

And then Omegon and his group opened their eyes. The shadows were receding, with the angered scream of an unborn God of Dissolution denied its birth. Hozai's armour continued kneeling but the body was dust, that could be flying out into the wind. The ancient serpentine armour of Alpha Legionnaire began to break down rapidly, turning into dust, easily carried by the wind.

Heka stood before the Primarch of Alpha Legion alive, back in his body, with the Shard of Magnus the Red and Mote of Deep Warp locked in his body, his wards resuming their eternal tasks. He looked as the crumbling horizons beginning to reach to them, just as he saw the shimmering portal of the Webway in distance. He looked to his Rubric Marines, now in their revealed colors of their original legions and Chapters.

The holes on Heka's chest were reknitting themselves, with the armour impossibly rebuilding itself, using the energies of the Warp, since the world they're on was located in the expanded realm of the Eye. Heka and the Rubricae moved at once. "Move" was all he said, even before his body fully recovered, his armour following after.

Omegon, Imogen and their group recovered from the shock of seeing Heka come back alive, from the hole that should have killed him, and the additional shock of seeing different colors of other Legions and Chapters, even a few Commanderaries. Omegon recovered faster, though noted only a few out of hundreds of Rubricae remained, one of them was a former Alpha Legionnaire, and wondered briefly who he was, before ordering his sons to move back into the Webway. The Primarch bitterly held in his disgust and anger, still holding the disgust for the defiled spirits of the dead warriors, both Traitor and Loyal ever since he first faced them when he assisted another Loyalist of the Thousand Sons in another time.

Imogen did likewise with the Brethren of the Willing, just as the world crumbled around them. Heka followed afterwards. It was not long before they ran into the Webway portal which closed immediately when the last of them got into the strange dimension buffeted between the Materium and the Warp itself. She noted only a few human members remained now. She knew she needed to recruit more members from the Vulkanite Imperium, but for now, she decided to hang back, to stick with Heka and his Rubricae. The surviving members followed suit.

Heka fell on his knees, panting, as soon as the survivors escaped into the Webway just as the portal shut close. He looked to Omegon and Imogen who turned back to look at him. "Thank you. Three potentials left." Heka breathed in painfully from this regeneration "You prevented turning me into one of the last three to bring the Dissolution." It was clear to them that Heka was much weakened. "I need more time. More time to purify this thing in me. To bring this to Revelation. Bring this nightmare to an end"

Omegon and Imogen looked at each other. For it was the first time they heard Heka utter these words. He never said this as much. Imogen never heard him say anything about Dissolution, even when she was a child carried, by Heka the Red away from her homeworld long since burnt several hundred centuries ago, when he rescued her from the maddened ravagers of Red Corsairs. She realized that was how Heka stayed sane for a very long time. If not for the Shard of his gene-father and the… mysterious entity from the Deep Warp, he would have gone mad a long time ago.


	7. Epilogue: Imogen's thoughts

As the Dauntless Lady and her surviving members of the Brethren of the Willing walked in pace with Heka and his Rubric Marines, Omegon remained quiet, with his Alpha Legionnaires, conferring among themselves, but she knew they were talking in sixth Cypher - Serpanta. She wondered about that vision.

" _Something trouble you, little one?"_ Heka asked Imogen. There was that. That gentle fatherly telepathic voice. She missed it. She knew that despite many long years in her life, she could never forget that telepathic voice and had yearned to hear it again since last he left her in a world in Segmentum Solar as a teenager. She knew Heka had predicted she would be picked up by the forces of Imperium of Armageddon, led by Primarch-Emperor, Vulkan.

Imogen considered him the closest she had to a parent when she remembered Heka keeping her close to him, when he sought out the worlds for her to settle on, with the children that followed her. And then she snapped out of her memory, when Heka stopped and placed his hand on her, and she could see his worry subtly showing in his movements. She still remembered to recognise his emotions in his armour. She knew him better than she remembered her own parents

Imogen smiled, and shook her head "No. Don't worry. Was the vision true?" Heka halted, alongside the Rubricae. The surviving Alpha Legion stopped and turned, hearing Heka halt. She glanced at Omegon, and could see he subtly turned to listen in.

"Yes." Heka said in his true voice, as he could see Omegon wanted to know as well. He knew they all saw the vision, a small insight into one of his many secrets, his true fight. "It is true. Why do you think you never saw me take off my armour when I rescued you from your homeworld of Curiosum IV? And between our voyage when we traveled throughout the stars, finding the right world, why do you think you saw the wards on my door to Librarium?"

Imogen could remember this. "And how you tried to get into my room out of curiosity? What did you think when you've seen the warnings on the very locks in my room as I piloted our ship at that time? And my seemingly contradictory warning not to dig into my secrets even when I taught you that all things must be understood as you learn?" Heka's voice became gentler at this memory "How you have dreamed of Shard of my Primarch teaching you things and warning you at the same time?"

Imogen nodded, as she understood why now. She remembered seeing the Mote of Deep Warp somehow being dragged into Heka's armour, alongside the Shard of Magnus the Red. She knew then that this was what he had harboured for twenty-seven thousand years of his life. It explained the eternal weariness in his voice and his unyielding will. His eternal refusal to bend. She knew Heka would not stop. Nothing could ever stop him. Not even the Dark Gods could stop him. Again, she took a quick glance at Omegon, and could see Omegon coming to the same conclusion.


End file.
